Strange words, like those that fall from the lips of a person demented, and yet they impressed Frank Merriwell. Somehow, he felt that there really was a bond that held this man of mystery and himself linked together.
“Let’s follow the police!” urged the Virginian. “Let’s help hunt down those devils!”
“Stop!”
The command came from the lips of Mr. Noname.
“Let them go,” said the man. “You cannot do any good.”
“Let them go!” panted Jack. “Let them get off after they have nearly murdered my friend! Well, I’m not built that way! If I can do anything to bring them to justice, you bet I’m going to do it!”
“That is well enough, but you can do nothing.”
“How do you know?”
“I know! The officers will not capture one of them. In a little while, they will return here. If Mr. Merriwell is here, they will take him into custody, perhaps. They will ask him a hundred questions. They will throw a cloud of suspicion over him. They will not believe the story he tells them. They will have him shadowed when he is set at liberty, if he is set at liberty. In short, they will make life in Paris rather unpleasant for him.”
“And you advise—what?”